


A Sheepish Kind of Love

by amfiguree



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Animal Transformation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"C," he'd said, finally, "It's fucking four in the morning, and I'm running out of ways to tell you that loving me is a bad idea. So, don't, okay? Great talk. See you in the morning?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sheepish Kind of Love

It's day eight when Justin barges into his bedroom at ass o'clock in the morning (and of course they'd send the fucking diva, of _course_ ), ranting about "seriously piss-ass behavior, dude, what the fuck kind of message are you and C trying to send? We've been working around you guys for a _week_ , Jesus, if y'all were gonna take your vacation early, you could've at least _said_ \--uh."  
  
Chris stays right where he is: in bed, with the covers yanked all the way up.  
  
The bleeting only pauses for a second.  
  
Dimly, he can hear Justin add, confusedly, "Chris? Why is there grass in--Jesus fucking _Christ_! _C_?"  
  
Chris just groans and presses his face deeper into his pillow.  
  
  
  
Now, there are a couple of truths Chris tends to take for granted.  
  
Like the fact that his family will always be the most important thing in his life, for example. Or that N'sync is forever. Or that he would have made a fucking _awesome_ stand-up if music hadn't worked out the way it has.   
  
Or that everyone who falls in love with him is going to turn into a sheep (not indefinitely, thank fuck, because that shit would be scarring, but long enough to cause a healthy amount of hysteria).  
  
Still. He's had thirty-two years to make his peace with the whole thing, and okay, yeah, it's kind of a bitch, but it's also goddamn _funny_ , (except when it isn't, like the first time he'd realized, curled up around Sheila in his bedroom, one hand on her boob and his tongue at her tonsils, and they'd barely even made it past second base before she was fucking _bleeting_ \--and take it from someone who's been around, swallowing a mouthful of sheepskin is no fucking joke).   
  
So whatever, Chris can deal with funny.   
  
Plus, they usually turn back once he's explained, because seriously, it's not like anyone's going to love him more than they love being _human_ ; this isn't Twilight, for fuck's sake, and he's no Edward Cullen. It's not even like it happens all that often, either. He's kind of obnoxious, so it's not like people are scrambling over themselves to be with him or anything--  
  
(except for that one time on their world tour, with the tribe of African kids, when he'd had a herd of black sheep following him around for three days straight, until he'd found someone he could buy off who could adequately translate, "you're going to be stuck as animals unless you fall out of love with this weirdo freak." Or the day after that, when he'd woken up with a furry, snowy white arm, Jesus _Christ_ , and Lance had snorted into his decaf and said, "Of course you'd find some way to take narcissism to a whole new level.")  
  
So basically, it's not a problem, the whole lamb thing.  
  
At least, it isn't until JC doesn't turn back.  
  
  
  
It's been close to three years since the end now, and sometimes, Chris looks at Justin and still doesn't understand how they happened. It's nothing like it is with JC, who still buys his own damn groceries whenever he has the time. This is _Justin Timberlake_ , fucking untouchable golden boy even off-stage, too-blonde curls and too-shiny smile and all, and their being BFF doesn't change that. Much. Aside from being the catalyst to their hooking up at all.  
  
And now he knows Justin better than he'll know anyone in his entire life: the way he looks in the shower, naked and gleaming; the way his eyes catch the light, so fucking _blue_ ; all the different ways his mouth quirks, the way it feels against bare skin.  
  
Plus, Justin going all sheep-man for him (because of him) is pretty damn flattering, no matter how long it's been since.  
  
So sometimes, sometimes, Chris looks at him and thinks, _Jesus Christ_.  
  
Now is not one of those times.  
  
"I can't believe you didn't see this coming!" Justin chokes out, from between his fingers.  
  
"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Chris growls. The pillow he chucks across the bed does nothing to muffle Justin's laughter. "We don't all walk around thinking the universe is in love with us."  
  
"Oh my god," Justin gasps. "Eight _days_. You've had a sheep in your bedroom eight whole days, and-- _ow_ , Jesus, C!"   
  
"Baa," JC says, flatly.   
  
"I can't believe you just headbutted me!" Justin says, affronted. "Seriously? Was that necessary?"  
  
"Baa," JC repeats, and lowers his head.  
  
Justin raises his hands. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, Jesus."   
  
Chris narrows his eyes, and reaches over, vindictively, to pet JC's head. He sighs in resignation when JC bleets, happily, and twists around to lick his palm.  
  
Justin's mouth twitches, and his eyes are too bright.  
  
"Shut up," Chris mutters, but he doesn't pull his hand back. "Can we just get back to figuring out how the hell we fix this?"  
  
"Relax, man," Justin says, and at least he doesn't look like he's going to laugh outright again. "I'll get the guys over here and we'll work it out. It's not like we're new to this."   
  
  
  
Which--Justin's right. It's not the first time this has happened. They've all been in love with each other at one point or another. Chris realized a long time ago that being this close to four other (really fucking attractive) people can only lead to incestuous feelings. Or romantic ones. Or incestuously romantic ones.   
  
And anyway, he'd gone in one man down already, with Joey. It'd been years and years before N'sync, while they'd both been working at Universal. They'd been hanging out a lot after hours, and Chris had been so starved for decent human company that didn't comprise douchebags or children that he'd let his dick do the thinking and invited Joey home. And then it was ten months later and Joey was turning into a lamb during one of the two pm shows.  
  
So yeah, not the best move he's made, and in hindsight, Chris knows he should probably regret the decision, because there are so many ways it could've gone south--Joey could've lost his job, they could've had a falling out, the company could've demanded a repeat goddamn performance--but he can't.  
  
(Because seriously, the sex had been fucking _amazing_. And it's _Joey_ , Jesus. Joey, who's friends with all of his ex-es, who always calls when he says he will, who rolls with the punches better than anyone Chris knows. Some days Chris wakes up wondering why they never tried it again.)  
  
Still, he'd become a lot more careful after that.  
  
Not careful enough, though, clearly. Fucking JC and his fucking powers of persuasion.  
  
"Trial-basis, man," JC'd said, "Totally painless." And, "You've dated _Justin_ ; how bad can this be?" And, "I'm really bendy, cat."   
  
(Which--it's not like Chris hasn't heard things from Lance about the bendiness, so that definitely sealed the deal. Sort of. Because it's not like that fucking crinkly-eyed smile had anything to do with anything.  
  
Not a goddamn thing.  
  
Even in his head, Chris can hear Lance rolling his eyes.)  
  
  
  
Naturally, that's the first thing Lance does when he comes over.   
  
Then he feeds JC some grass and fusses over him for fifteen minutes before leading him into the guestroom across the hall and locking him in it. "Fantastic timing," Lance says, dryly, as he comes back into Chris' bedroom. "Because we don't have a tour starting in a month to think about or anything."  
  
"Right," Chris says. "Right, yeah, because _I totally planned for this to happen_. I just woke up one day and thought, huh, it'd be kind of fun to destroy my entire career--"  
  
"What did you think was going to happen?" Lance demands. "It's _C_. Of course he was going to fall in love with you."  
  
"So, what, I'm not allowed to date now?" Chris says. "Sorry, Kirkpatrick, you're just so fucking irresistible the universe has decided you should shave your head and take up the--"  
  
"Hey," Justin says, and his tone is enough to make the both of them look up. He's frowning, one ear pressed up against the door. Chris feels his pulse spike. "C's getting pretty loud. It sounds like... I think he's singing?"  
  
Chris lets out a breath. "Of course he's fucking singing," he snaps. "What else would he be doing? He's freaked the fuck out!"  
  
Lance arches an eyebrow. "Sounds like you're doing enough freaking out for the both of you."   
  
"Sorry," Chris says, pointedly. "I guess sharing living quarters with a lamb for over a week will do that to a guy."   
  
"Oh my _god_ ," Justin interrupts. "Fucking enough with the melodrama already."  
  
Chris blinks as Lance shoots him a look. He returns it. They turn to Justin as one.   
  
Justin looks from him to Lance, and back again. He narrows his eyes. "Oh, don't _even_. This is so not about me."  
  
"That's a first," Lance says.   
  
"Oh, go fuck yourselves and your unresolved shit," Justin says, hands planted on his hips.   
  
Despite himself, Chris feels a grin threaten to spread.  
  
  
  
Seriously, though, it's not like Chris had been under any illusion that him and Lance would work in the long run. If him and JC are the old married couple, him and Lance had been the about-to-be-wedded.   
  
They hadn't stood a chance in hell; there was too much fire between them for that.  
  
Unfortunately, things probably would've worked out a little better if Lance had gotten that same memo.   
  
They'd fucked, and they'd fought, and sometimes they'd done both, made sure to leave bruises to mark their territory, and nothing about any of it had been easy, and Chris had fucking loved every minute of it, _needed_ it. Sometimes he looks at Lance and still feels that phantom sting.   
  
So yeah, he'd freaked out when he'd gotten the call from Diane over their month-long hiatus, asking him what in God's name was going on, and why there was a sheep in her son's bedroom trampling all over her son's cell phone, and why was his number the first one Lance had on speed-dial?  
  
There are days Chris still thinks Lance would have walked out on this, on all of it, if Joey hadn't been there to talk him into sticking things out.  
  
Thank fuck for Joey.  
  
  
  
Chris says as much when Joey finally appears on his doorstep, half an hour later.  
  
Sort of.  
  
His actual words are: "I'm about to kill one of them, and C isn't here to stop me, so you better fucking come in and try."  
  
Which he does, and pretty damn successfully, too, (Chris understands that, because he would sure as hell stand down if Joey Fatone was raising his voice and warning him to "calm the _fuck_ down or else.")   
  
Chris is about ready to kiss him.  
  
Then Joey says, "Now who actually has something _useful_ to say?" and the meeting takes off.  
  
Or it tries to, at least, but then it's forty minutes and six separate attempts to talk JC out of his sheepskin later, and Chris is about ready to throw in the towel. "Look, guys, I am out of fucking options, okay? If JC doesn't want to turn back, it's not like I can _make_ him."  
  
Lance is still methodically going through his list of contacts, like 'sheep-man reversal guru' is going to magically pop up on his cell phone. He doesn't even look up when he says, "Shut up, Chris. We're still working on it."  
  
"Fine," Chris grumbles. "Maybe we can just scare him out of it. We could take him to get his wool sheared."  
  
"Yeah," Lance deadpans. "No."  
  
Chris glowers. "Well, at the rate we're going he's going to be stuck like this forever, so what difference would it make?"   
  
"Maybe we could convince him to turn back at least part-time," Joey says. He doesn't sound convinced. "It'd be a start."  
  
"I don't think it works like that, man," Justin says, eyeing the bedroom door dubiously.  
  
Chris opens his mouth to protest.  
  
But Justin saves him the trouble, shoots him a wry smirk and adds, "I mean, I should know, right?"  
  
"Come on, man," Joey says, startled into laughing, as Lance hikes an eyebrow. "Quit talking like you're the only one who knows."  
  
"Look, just breathe, Chris," Lance says, finally, before he goes back to his phone. "We're all here. We'll figure this out."   
  
Chris does suck in a slow breath at that, but outside, JC's still bleeting, and fuck if it doesn't feel ten different kinds of wrong that he isn't in here with them.  
  
  
  
Truth be told, wanting to keep JC _not_ shut out is the main reason Chris hasn't left his house in eight days. (Not that he hadn't been tempted to try, because eight days is fucking forever, man.)  
  
Still, he'd known this shit was serious when he'd woken up to JC licking his cheek, beaming at him even as a goddamn lamb, and he'd groaned into his pillow and prepared himself for another Talk - the one he gave all the accidental sheep-people to turn them back - and, again, mourned the loss of a fucking awesome sex partner at the same time, (because yeah, the Talk tended to also be the Talk).   
  
Except he'd said, "Look, seriously, fall out of love with me. It's hazardous to your health. I mean, have you seen you lately?" about fifty different times, and still, all JC did was sit there and _bleet_.  
  
"C," he'd said, finally, "It's fucking four in the morning, and I'm running out of ways to tell you that loving me is a bad idea. So, don't, okay? Great talk. See you in the morning?"  
  
Not the most inspirational speech, and not the most effective, either, which he'd found out when he'd woken up two hours later to spilt milk, a toppled frying pan, and three broken eggs on his kitchen floor. And, as if that hadn't been enough of a giveaway, _JC had still been a sheep_.  
  
Still, he hadn't really gotten worried until the second night, when JC had dragged a bunch of old clothes into his room and laid them out so he could get comfortable on the floor. There'd been a couple of shirts from their very first tour, shit so god-awful Chris had been saving them for a special occasion bonfire, and he'd started laughing when JC begun chewing them up.  
  
 _Laughing_ , like any of that had been fucking normal.   
  
He'd almost caved and called Joey, then, but goddammit, the guy would have seen through him right away. And fuck, okay, there are names for people who fall in love with fucking sheep, and Chris is _none of the above_ , so he'd chosen solitary panic, which--yeah, not quite working out the way he'd hoped.   
  
  
  
Not that this is working any better, though, because Joey pretty much sees through him like Chris predicted he would, and takes him aside while Justin and Lance check in on JC. "Okay, seriously," he says, once he's put a cup of black coffee in Chris' hands. "What's the problem?"  
  
"What's the problem?" Chris balks. "What's the--newsflash, Joe, there's a fucking _llama_ sleeping in my bedroom. And he happens to be JC, who I'm kind of dating. And who, for the record, I happen to like _human_."  
  
"Technically he's a sheep," Joey corrects. He grins when Chris rolls his eyes. "Look, okay, I've been there, done that, got the burn marks to prove it. You've dealt with this before. Hell, you dealt with _Lance_. What's going on here?"   
  
"Please," Chris says. "You guys were easy. Like any of you would have seriously considered sprouting wool for the rest of your lives for me. C's a different story."  
  
Joey 'hmm's a little, but concedes the point.  
  
"Plus," Chris adds (and his voice does not crack at the end, dammit), "We've been dating, like, _two months_. Just--isn't that kind of fucking soon to want a commitment?"  
  
Chris can't quite get a read on it, but he sees Joey's expression shift then. "Two months?" Joey scoffs. "Try two years, dumbass. This engagement's been going on for-fucking-ever. Duh, he's not falling out of love with you."  
  
Chris' jaw drops. "What?"  
  
"What?" Lance echoes, and Chris looks up to see him and Justin emerging from the guestroom. "How the hell did you miss this?"   
  
"Wait, _what_?" Justin says. "You didn't know? He's been pining just about _forever_ \-- _ow_! Knock it off, C!"   
  
Chris looks from Joey's expectant face, to Lance's impatient one, lingers on Justin's disbelief for a second before settling on JC, who's moved to stand between Joey and Lance with the most serene expression on his face.  
  
Chris can almost, _almost_ believe they weren't having a fight about whether or not JC needs a bath less than two hours ago. He swallows. "Uh," he says, finally.  
  
  
  
It's not exactly a _moment_ , the way it happens with JC. It's a pretty routine morning after, and they're both in the bathroom, freshly fucked, Chris with his toothbrush stuck in his mouth and JC sporting a deranged Santa Claus-esque shaving cream beard, when JC turns to him with a toothy grin. "You know," he says. "We have this entire week of free time coming up."  
  
Chris waggles his eyebrows in reply, and mimes a particularly indecent motion with his toothbrush.  
  
JC giggles. "Yea _aaaaaaaaaaaa_ \--"  
  
Chris lets the toothbrush fall. "Holy _shit_."  
  
And that had been that.  
  
It's just--Chris knows how much JC likes his moments. He hoards them the way he hoards his pixie stix, like he isn't a fucking millionaire who could afford buying over the entire company. (Which is ridiculous, but also kind of endearing, dammit.)  
  
And this one seems like a pretty big let-down, all things considered.  
  
Which--Chris is pretty sure he wants to fix that. He just wishes he knew how.  
  
So he does what any self-respecting man would do, if put in his situation.   
  
He consults Walt.  
  
  
  
"Uh," Joey says, after Chris shares his latest master plan.  
  
"I don't get it. You're just going to, what, kiss him?" Justin demands.  
  
"Right," Lance deadpans. "Total foolproof plan. Because your life is a Disney movie."  
  
"Well, what else do I have to lose?" Chris says, matter-of-factly. "My boyfriend's already a lamb."  
  
There's a second of silence as they turn as one to look at JC, who rewards them with a cheerful bleet. Hell, Chris would swear the crazy ass motherfucker is _smirking_.  
  
"You're going to _kiss_ him?" Justin repeats finally, voice catching as it notches higher.  
  
"Baa," JC says, nuzzling his head into Chris' palm.  
  
"At least JC likes the idea," Joey says.  
  
Lance's smile is reluctant, but there. "He would."  
  
"Baa," JC says. It sounds almost smug.  
  
"Okay then," Chris says, and catches himself grinning as he leans down--  
  
"Oh god," Justin says.  
  
And then he's kissing JC, for real, and--it's weird. And not in a particularly pleasant way. It's like kissing Sheila all over again, only not as invasive. But JC still smells like ass, and his fur is kind of cold, and Chris is sure as hell not going into details about what it tastes like, but he's cringing as he pulls back, and he's definitely not in any hurry to repeat the chain of events.  
  
"Uh," Joey says, again.  
  
"Like I said," Lance adds. "Foolproof."  
  
Chris cracks an eye open, and his jaw drops. "Oh, come _on_ ," he explodes.  
  
Sheep-JC blinks up at him, half-raises a hoof in what could be construed as an apology, before bumping his head against Chris' hip.  
  
Justin's too busy gawking to comment.  
  
  
  
The guys clear out pretty soon after that, when Chris makes it clear he's not up for company. JC watches him forlornly from the kitchen, and Chris almost feels bad about locking him out of the bedroom that night.  
  
Almost. Because yeah, okay, it's probably not fair to hold it against him, but--  
  
Seriously. Chris kissed a fucking sheep for him. The least he could do to show his gratitude is fucking stop _being_ one.   
  
Doesn't stop Chris from spending the next three hours tossing in bed, watching his closed bedroom door and wondering what the hell he's going to do now.   
  
  
  
Chris puts off getting up the next morning about a billion times. It takes four aborted attempts for him to finally make himself sit up, and another couple to actually make it to the door.   
  
The first thing he notices when he steps into the living room is the smell (or the obvious lack of it). The second is a very naked JC, sitting at his kitchen counter, nursing a cup of a coffee in one hand, and the morning paper in the other. Chris spends about a minute staring in absolute disbelief. "You're naked," he says, eventually.  
  
JC startles as he looks up, breaks into a fucking devastating grin. "It's comfortable."  
  
Chris' stomach clenches. "Holy shit," he breathes, almost choking on his amazement. "Holy fucking shit."   
  
They watch each other for another long, breathless silence, and Chris' stomach goes on to do some more seriously impressive acrobatics. Then JC tilts his head, holds out a hand. "C'mere, dumbass."   
  
Chris' pulse skips a fucking beat as he feels something in his chest go loose, and then he's got his hands tangled in JC's hair (actual _hair_ , thank god), and JC's mouth crushed under his own, and JC's skin is burning hot against his, and nothing else is ever going to matter as long as he has this, _Jesus_. "You still taste like crap," he mutters, through a shaky laugh, as he breaks away.  
  
"And whose fault is that?" JC points out, but he's still smiling, and Chris just barely quashes the urge to smooth a thumb over the lines by his eyes. "So."  
  
"So." Chris is pretty sure this means something big, all of this, and his mouth quirks as JC leans in to kiss him again. "I guess it's safe to say you didn't fall out of love with me."  
  
"Guess so," JC says, agreeably.  
  
"Oh, good," Chris says. "Because it would kind of suck if you had, since I'm in love with you and all."  
  
"Yeah," JC says, expression softening. "I kind of figured when I woke up, you know, human."  
  
"Yeah," Chris says. And then he calls the rest of the guys to tell them the news. And to tell them not to come over for at least the next three days.  
  
Judging from the way JC smirks and backs him into the bedroom, he doesn't have a problem with the arrangement.   
  
It's still not much of a moment, but it's an improvement.   
  
And Chris plans to keep working on it.   
  
He's got time.


End file.
